


Sweet Hearts

by akirerae (rerae)



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Developing Friendships, Fluff, Gen, I Tried, I was salty over their canon support conversations so i wrote this whoops, I'm Bad At Titles, ft. Python being a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rerae/pseuds/akirerae
Summary: Though it was a reckless, if not brash decision on Alm's behalf, they do manage to save the cleric from the brigands.Lukas only hopes that they were not too late in coming to her aid.





	Sweet Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Of course the longest fic I've ever written has to be the one written out of spite. First time writing these characters so please do be gentle.
> 
> Shout out to Del, who read this a billion times even though they know very little about FE.

Though it was a reckless, if not brash decision on Alm's behalf, they do manage to save the cleric from the brigands.  
  
Lukas only hopes that they were not too late in coming to her rescue.  
  
She is a most welcome addition to their current party and to the Deliverance as a whole. In light of recent losses, they are in desperate need for a healer.  
  
However, he cannot help but notice how her smiles are more like grimances. Or how easily startled she is when one of them accidentally walks up from behind. Perhaps it is due to their constant skirmishes with the brigands.  
  
If so, he can hardly blame her. After experiencing such trauma, being forced to face it so soon and without reprieve is a cruel fate indeed.  
  
Lukas is not sure what those ruffians did to her during her time with them, and of course, he is no place to ask. Though he hopes for the best, he cannot deny the possibility.  
  
His stomach churns at the thought.  
  
At the moment, their group has settled down for the night. To the protest of none, Lukas offers to stand the first watch alone. It did not take long for the village children to fall asleep, so he cannot help but notice her solitary presence by the dying embers of the fire.  
  
Her hands are clasped tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips move in a silent, fervent prayer. When she is done, her expression looks no less tormented than before.  
  
Deciding that he can afford a momentary slip in his vigilance, he approaches her.  
  
"Lady Silque, are you alright?"  
  
Judging by how her head snaps up from her lap, she did not see him coming. She quickly schools her features into a more amicable expression. It is a noble attempt, he gives her that much.  
  
"Ah, Sir Lukas. How can I help you?" She quickly smooths out her robes and moves to a standing position. "Is there an injury that I overlooked?"  
  
He holds up a hand to stay her position. "Peace, friend. You needn't stand. And no, there is no injury. But I couldn't help but notice that you are still awake.  
  
"Oh. I-" Her fingers go up to brush a stray lock back into place, then to her headress, then back to her lap. "I'll go to bed soon. I'm sorry to have worried you, Sir Lukas."  
  
He offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "No, you needn't apologize." After a moment of internal struggle, he decides to ask, "Forgive me for being so candid, but have you difficulty sleeping as of late?"  
  
Ah, he must have hit a nerve. She stiffens at his question and begins to wring her hands.  
  
"To... To be quite honest, yes. I knew that the political climate of Zofia was... unfavorable. But I think I underestimated the sever... Oh."  
  
She falters in her movements, as if she remembers herself, then offers him a sheepish smile. "Please forgive me, Sir Lukas. I don't know what came over me for my tongue to be without filter like that."  
  
"Again, you need not apologize."  
  
In fact, he should be the one apologizing. His first offense? Standing over her during the duration of this conversation.  
  
He vaguely gestures at the log she sits on. "May I?"  
  
"Oh, of course." She shifts aside her skirts and moves aside to give him more room to seat himself.  
  
He nods his thanks and folds his hands in his lap. "I think it is quite normal to be shaken by events such as these. This country has known only times of peace. For it to be thrown into turmoil like this is... unsettling, to say the least."  
  
"I suppose... But to see this land and the Mother's people suffering so..." Lukas glances over in time to see her clasp her hands with enough force to turn her knuckles white.  
  
Worried that she may draw blood, Lukas places his hand over hers. She starts at the contact, but the tension from her hands slacken.  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry." Her expression is sheepish once more. "Did I ramble again?"  
  
"Not at all. I was worried that you might hurt yourself." Lukas settles his hand back to his lap as she breathes a quiet 'oh' to herself.  
  
"Thank you." She directs a smile at him, one that isn't nearly as strained as her previous ones.  
  
Lukas returns it with one of his own. "Of course."  
  
Struck by sudden inspiration, he digs around one of his hidden compartments and takes out a hard candy. "I'm... not certain if this will be of any assistance to you, but I find consuming sweets to be almost medicinal at times."  
  
The way her eyes widen when he places the candy in the palm of her hand is almost comical.  
  
"Oh, Sir Lukas- I- I don't know what to say..."  
  
And for some odd reason, she dissolves into a fit of quiet laughter. Though he must admit, the sound is pleasant to the ear.  
  
When her mirth subsides, she wipes away the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean to be so rude."  
  
For the first time in awhile, Lukas is unsure of how to respond. "No, my apologies, Lady Silque. I shouldn't have assumed. I take it that you don't have a penchant for sweets?"  
  
She shakes her head almost vehemently. "No, no. I love them. It's just that... I didn't expect you of all people to have a sweet tooth. It's a rather pleasant surprise, actually."  
  
"Oh..." Odd. Did he not seem like the type to enjoy sweets? He brushes aside the thought and opts to pose a different question instead. "Do you have any preferences, Lady Silque?"  
  
"No, I'm not partial to any particular sweet. But there is a pastry that I've always been meaning to try.” Her expression takes on a more animated turn and, in that moment, Lukas cannot help but wonder her exact age. "I'm not certain if you know of it, but its shape is similar to a croissant. Tucked inside it are fresh strawberries and custard. Oh, and it's topped with powdered sugar as well."  
  
"I think I know of the dessert you speak of. It was fairly popular with the Zofian court before the war."  
  
"I can see why." Her rueful smile twists her lips. "It's silly, especially for one of my belief, but I would love to taste it for myself. Though I'm sure Mila will bless me the opportunity to try it someday."  
  
She seems so vulnerable like this, with her wistful thinking over something as mundane as food. It reminds Lukas that she is but a young woman, and a holy one at that, caught up in the throes of war. He makes a mental note to check if any of the confectionary shops along their march still made such a delicacy. The search may prove difficult, but it is the least he can do for her.  
  
"Perhaps, the opportunity shall come sooner than you think."  
  
"Oh!" Her posture straightens and her hand shoots straight to her mouth. She berates it once before turning her attention back to him. The dying light from the fire poorly conceals the blush staining her cheeks. "Sir Lukas, it was merely wishful thinking on my behalf. You needn't take me so seriously."  
  
"Alright," Lukas concedes with a chuckle, "But I must agree with you. A dessert like that sounds particularly lovely."  
  
"Doesn't it?" Her face relaxes to something less mortified. "Especially in times of war."  
  
They fall into an amiable silence after that. He watches as she turns the candy in the palm of her hand. Once, twice, three times before she curls her fingers around it. Then, she rises to her feet and bows.  
  
"I shall take my leave to my tent, Sir Lukas. Goodnight. And thank you." There is a small smile on her face when she straightens. "I think I'll be able to rest easy tonight."

* * *

Lukas is never one for feeling strong emotions, but the second he hears _his_ voice, he feels something akin to apprehension.

"Oho, Lukas... What do we have here?"  
  
"It is nothing of your concern, Python."  
  
And of course, the man has to sling his arm around his shoulders and speak directly into his ear.  
  
"Oh come _on_ , I wouldn't call those fancy looking pastries _nothing_. Who's it for, hmm? A special lady friend?"  
  
With a poorly concealed sigh, Lukas brushes the archer's arm from his shoulders. "Why am I not surprised that _this_ is the immediate conclusion you turn to?"  
  
"Aw, come on!” His friend dawns on a pout unbefitting for his age. “You can't blame a guy for being curious."  
  
"No, I suppose there is nothing that can possibly sate your appetite for gossip."  
  
With that, Lukas hopes to put some distance between them by hastening his pace, but unfortunately, this one of the few times Python actually decides to apply himself.  
  
If only he would transfer this energy to something of actual use.  
  
"Hey, listen." By now, Python is walking backwards in front of Lukas, probably so that they can continue this conversation face to face. Wonderful.  
  
"If you only brought along a bunch of village brats, I wouldn't say a thing." Python takes a moment to reconsider his words and concedes with a shrug. "Probably. _But_ , you brought that cleric lady with you. And a good looking one at that."  
  
For some odd reason, the crunch of gravel underneath their boots sound unnaturally loud, as do the clanging of metal from their armor. Lukas has to resist the urge to rub at his temples.  
  
"I fail to see your point here."  
  
"My _point_ , Sir Stud, is that it's kind of hard not to jump to conclusions here." Python gestures at the box. "How'd ya even get the money to buy this in the first place?"  
  
He holds up a hand to still Lukas’ response. "Waaaiit... Don't tell me. You pilfered some coins from the treasury."  
  
"What-? Python, I did no such thing."  
  
The second those words leave Lukas' mouth, he knows he would regret them all too soon.  
  
Python’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe. "Whoaho! Look at _you_. Using your own personal coin."  
  
Lukas heaves a deep suffering sigh and redoubles his efforts in ridding himself of the army's residential gossip.  
  
To the surprise of possibly no one, he fails miserably.  
  
"Listen, I'm not jealous." A pause. " _Much_. I'm actually happy for you." His friend nudges him with an elbow and falls into step beside him.  
  
"'Course this means she won't be paying any attention to poor ol' Python, but hey." He clasps the back of his neck with one of his hands and glances at Lukas from the corner of his eye. "I mean it. I'm genuinely happy for you."  
  
Before Lukas can even appreciate at least the sentiment of his words, the archer's smile takes a devious turn. "Aaannd.... to celebrate, how about we go hit up the town tonight and quaff some ale? Hmm? Hmm?"  
  
Lukas finds himself sighing once more. Again with the nudging?

"Look, Python. I'm only going to say this once. So listen well. There is-"  
  
"Sir Lukas?"  
  
He turns his head to the voice and, for a moment, finds that the only response he can muster is to stare. "Oh. Lady Silque. Forsyth. Hello."  
  
"Hello Lukas!" Forsyth nods his head in a brief greeting before turning to his childhood friend. He does not look pleased. "Ho, Python! So this is where you've been. Trying to shirk from your duties _again_ , are we?"  
  
"And that's my cue to skedaddle." Python claps Lukas on the shoulder. "Nice talking to you, Luke. Have a good time with your lady friend, huh?"  
  
Then, much to Lukas' horror, he turns his attention to Silque and says, "Hey, let me know what this guy's courting methods are. He'll _never_ tell me himself."  
  
The look of shock on the healer's face would have been quite amusing, had Lukas not be wearing a similar one.  
  
"I- I beg your pardon?"  
  
Although he knows his efforts will be for naught, Lukas tries anyway. "Python, for the last time, it's not-"  
  
"Python!"

...It seems as though whoever dealt life's cards was clearly against him getting a single word in edgewise today.

Forsyth reaches out with lightning precision and catches his friend by the collar. "Have you not even the slightest amount of decency!?" He brings the archer into a rather painful choke hold and bows to Silque, who still looks rather flustered.  
  
"Please, forgive my friend of his impudence, Lady Silque," Forsyth says over the noises of his friend's struggle for freedom, "He simply does not know how to still that tongue of his."  
  
"Oh, uhm." Her hands are clasped firmly in front of her and she appears to be at a loss for words. "It's quite alright?"  
  
Python opens his mouth to speak, but Forsyth tightens his grip, effectively silencing him. For the time being, at least.  
  
"Again, I'm so terribly sorry for my friend's behavior. If you are in any need of our assistance, my friend and I will be off sorting inventory. 'Til our next meeting, Lady Silque." Forsyth bows once more to her and nods his head at Lukas, sending him a not so subtle wink in the process. "Come along now, Python. Let's not disturb them any longer than we already have."  
  
"Alright, alright! Cravens, will ya let me go already? I'm tryin' to _breathe_ here!"  
  
"Hah! And let you flee from me a second time? Absolutely not."

With a mix of exasperation and fondness, Lukas watches his comrades retreat into the mess of tents that make up their temporary camp. Though their intentions are in the right place, he makes a mental note to clarify this misunderstanding with them as soon as possible, least unfavorable rumors spread throughout camp.  
  
Beside him, Silque murmurs something that strangely sounds like, 'Mila guide them,' before saying at a louder register, "My, that certainly was an experience and a half."  
  
"Python and Forsyth are... a rather colorful pair," Lukas agrees, "I hope it wasn't any discomfort to you, Lady Silque. Particularly with Python and his antics."  
  
She shakes her head and sends an amused smile toward the tents. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's... different, from what I'm used to back at the priory, but nothing unpleasant."  
  
"Well, I'm glad that the members of our army aren't entirely to your distaste," he says with a soft laugh before holding out the box of pastries to her, "Here are the sweets you requested, Lady Silque."  
  
"The sweets?" She turns slowly to face him, her eyes wide with what seems to be a mixture of embarrassment and mortification. "Sir Lukas, it was only a jest! You didn't have to go out of your way to get this for me." She frantically fishes for her purse and fumbles to open it. "How much did this cost you?"  
  
"Peace, Lady Silque." He reaches out to stay her hand. "Consider this a gift for all you've done for the Deliverance thus far."  
  
"Oh... I." She stows away her purse and smooths out her robes, something Lukas now realizes to be a nervous habit of hers. "In that case, I insist that we share. It won't be nearly as delectable if I were to eat these all by my lonesome."  
  
A small laughs escapes him. "Well, if you put it that way, I can't refuse. I would never hear the end of it if I treated a lady such as yourself so poorly."  
  
"Thank you, but please, just call me Silque." Her smile is a tad sheepish. "I am but a humble servant of Mila, hardly worthy of the title, 'Lady.'"  
  
Lukas shakes his head. "I disagree. I think you are every bit worthy of the title. However, if you insist on forgoing formalities, then I must insist that you do the same."  
  
"Agreed. We can eat these in the medicine tent if you'd like." She sneaks a glance up at him and holds a hand up to her mouth to hide her smile. "Your penchant for sweets may rival my own, Lukas."  
  
He falters in his steps and sends a perplexed glance her way. "Really? How so?"  
  
"Well…” She taps her chin thoughtfully.  “Your eyes seem to light up, almost like a child's. Like now, for instance."  
  
"They... do?"  
  
"Yes. You're actually quite expressive. It's pleasant to see you so excited about something."  
  
"...Excited?"  
  
He misses a step, and though he is able to recover quickly enough, the more he thinks about her statement, the heavier his feet seem to become. He doesn't realize that he has stopped walking completely until he sees her face before his own, crinkled in concern.  
  
"Lukas...? Is everything alright?"  
  
He forces on a smile that feels more false than usual, but it nearly falters when it merely serves to downturn the corners of her mouth even further.  
  
"I'm fine, Silque."  
  
For a moment, he is confused. Usually, his smiles are quite capable of misleading others. He quickly brushes aside the thought, and instead steers the conversation to stiller waters.  
  
"Tell me. Have you made any progress with your discussions with Faye?"

* * *

 "Lukas! Whoa-!"  
  
He turns just in time to catch her when she stumbles over feet. She must have ran all this way to find him, though gods know why.  
  
"Silque." He helps her regain her footing and takes a polite step back to give her space. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes," She places a hand on her chest and takes a moment to find her breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Oh, thank Mila. I finally found you."  
  
Lukas feels his stomach drop and wishes he had the foresight to have his lance on hand. "Did something happen?"  
  
"What? Oh, no." She waves her hands reassuringly. "Nothing like that. Though things have been quite hectic since our last battle."  
  
So there was not an imminent crisis on their hands. Lukas feels the tension leave his shoulders.  
  
"Yes, they have indeed. Your help has been pivotal to our success, Silque." He inclines his head. "Thank you."  
  
In response, she shakes her own, and a fond smile graces her lips. "You flatter me too much, Lukas."  
  
He is about to answer her, to say that it is not so much flattery as it is the honest truth, but it appears as though she came to him for more than just idle conversation.  
  
"But this isn't what I wanted to discuss with you." She worries at her bottom lip for a moment, as if unsure of what to say next. When she does speak, her words are still hesitant, "You see, since our last conversation, I... couldn't help but notice that something upset you."  
  
He lowers his gaze to his feet. "I see. So you wished to clear the air."  
  
"Yes, something like that."  
  
In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he offers her an amiable smile. "I apologize for worrying you, Silque. Very well. Let us clear the air."  
  
He gestures to a nearby crate and encourages her to sit. His explanation is most likely to be fairly brief, but he does not wish for her feet to grow weary. She has been as busy as the rest of them, if not more so.  
  
The cleric nods her thanks and bunches up her robes before seating herself. When she is settled, she clasps her hands in her lap and waits patiently for him to speak.  
  
Lukas moves to lean against some nearby crates, then takes a moment to gather his bearings. How to even explain this?  
  
"...When you described me as ‘excited’ in our last conversation, I couldn't help but recall something Sir Clive once told me. You see, he called me his... 'cold observer.'"

The memory is not exactly a painful one, but to say it was pleasant would not be right either.

“I…” Lukas dismisses the thought and continues with his explanation, "I am not a man of many passions. So when you said that, I was caught off guard."  
  
He glances over in time to see her appraise him silently. Though he cannot tell for certain what she is thinking, he sees no judgement there.  
  
"True, I haven't known you to lose your composure very often." A small frown downturns her lips. "But by the Mother! To call you cold... I think that's going too far."  
  
Ah, perhaps he shouldn't have said anything. She looks as though she is about to march over to Clive himself and tell him exactly what she thought of him. Lukas is reluctant to admit it, but the thought is an amusing one.  
  
"Thank you, Silque. But his descriptor is an apt one." He stares wistfully at the palm of his hand. "Just once... I wish to feel something. Rage, envy. _Anything_. Granted, I'm not nearly as dispassionate as Python, but I fear myself to be... a bit too detached."

He slowly clenches his hand into a fist, vaguely registering pain from where his nails dig into his flesh. "There are times where I find myself wondering if a vital part of me is broken."  
  
Silence falls between them after that. For a moment, he fears he said something to upset her. The way her brow furrows indicates as much.  
  
And although the thought fills him with self loathing, he cannot help but imagine what she might say to him. If she will tell him, just like everyone else has before her, that his lack of emotion is perfectly normal.  
  
"...If I may be quite frank with you, Lukas." Her words are measured, even, and chosen with consideration. "I think you sell yourself short. If you were truly as cold and detached as you say you are, you wouldn't be so nearly as frustrated with yourself."  
  
That... was not the answer he expected to hear. He looks to her, his eyes wide in surprise.  
  
"You truly think so?"  
  
"Of course." She reaches out and places her hand over his own, catching him off guard for a second time. He cannot help but notice how small hers seem in comparison to his own.  
  
"And please do not call yourself broken. You are far from it." She offers him a reassuring smile. "But if your lack of passion disturbs you so, perhaps we can try to find something that sparks it?"  
  
"Find something that-?" Lukas finds himself shaking his head. Such wishful thinking will not benefit him. "No, you needn't go that far for me. I am who I am. I've come to realize that it may be futile to try and change it."  
  
However, she is not so easily swayed.  
  
"I must disagree with you there. I'm certain that with Mila's blessing and guidance, you can." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "And I will say this again, Lukas. You are not broken. I won't stand for you talking about yourself in such a way."  
  
They stay in that position for what seems like minutes, though it could not have been more than a few seconds at most. While he does not find the contact unwelcoming, he does begin to worry about the appropriateness of it all, especially since their army has its fair share of gossips. Judging by the blush slowly tinting the cleric's cheeks, she is considering the plausibility as well.  
  
With a soft cough, she quickly removes her hand and folds them in her lap. Once more, the sheepishness in her actions reminds Lukas of her youth. She appears so much older and wiser than them all that, most of the time, it is easy to forget she is but the tender age of nineteen.  
  
She offers him a tentative smile. "Forgive me if that was too assertive of me. But I only say this as your friend."  
  
"Peace, Silque." He returns the smile with one of his own, and for the first time in awhile, it is not one just for pleasantries' sake. "I understand. And... Thank you. I would be a fool not to appreciate your friendship."  
  
Perhaps, there is some hope left for him after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write more to flesh out their friendship but meh. This was already self indulgent as it is. I say this but I'm like. Two ticks from writing a bonified monster of a fic.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
